


An Angel Cried Mercy

by ClareGuilty



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Exhibitionism, F/F, Hate Sex, Masturbation, Resentment, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28587345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClareGuilty/pseuds/ClareGuilty
Summary: Angela is captured by Talon after her Valkyrie suit is destroyed. Held captive by Moira, old feelings rise to the surface.
Relationships: Moira O'Deorain/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	An Angel Cried Mercy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afracturedthought](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afracturedthought/gifts), [Kiovi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiovi/gifts).



> Happy birthday bb! This was so much fun to write and I hope you enjoy it <3

The call for help rang through the comm channel. Fareeha was pushing back a group of Talon soldiers a few blocks away and had taken a few hits. Angela spotted her above the low rooftops, expertly dodging enemy fire as she reloaded her launcher.

Taking a few running strides, Angela soared through the streets of the omnic district. She loved the Valkyrie suit, loved the freedom of flight. Despite being one of the least armed members of Overwatch, she was the most mobile, and she used that to her advantage on the battlefield. Fareeha shouted her thanks as soon as Angela was within range, the biotic emitter would stabilize her until the fight was over.

They were impossibly strong fighting side by side. Fareeha had been the one to teach Angela how to fly in the Valkyrie suit, having years of experience with her own Raptora armor. It was exhilarating, the heat of the battle and the rush of air and the feeling of free fall as Angela dove out of the way of incoming fire. Her heart pounded. They were well past enemy lines now, causing enough chaos for the Talon soldiers so the other agents could keep up the fight on the front lines. Angela would need to return soon to help the others.

She heard the shot ring out. Louder than any other on the battlefield. The left wing of the Valkyrie suit shattered, and Angela began to plummet. The world spun out of control as she tried to slow her descent with only one wing. She could hear Fareeha’s shouts, the sound of the wind rushing in her ears. The burning pain in her shoulder.

And then darkness.

-

As a healer, Angela was not used to waking up in a hospital bed. Typically she was waiting for others to wake up. It wasn’t a fun experience from this end. She felt groggy, heavy, unfocused.

This wasn’t the Overwatch medical bay.

It was too dim, too unwelcoming. The equipment was unfamiliar.

Also, most notably, Angela’s wrists were cuffed to the rails of the bed.

She remembered. The sound of the valkyrie wing shattering, falling to the earth. She had been captured by Talon.

Taking a shaky breath, Angela tried to take stock of her injuries. She was battered and bruised, which was expected. There was a bandage over her left shoulder, and her entire upper body was sore. Yet everything was dressed and had clearly been treated with biotics. Whoever had taken her prisoner had done very well to patch her up.

Panic welled in her throat. She was a prisoner of Talon. She saw what they had done to Amelie, what had become of Gabriel. If she was alive, it was for a reason.

A door slid open, and footsteps echoed through the empty room. Angela tensed as whoever it was drew near.

The privacy screen was pushed aside, and she couldn’t keep from scowling.

“Moira,” she hissed.

“Dr. Ziegler,” Moira greeted. “Agent Lacroix is an excellent shot. You wouldn’t belive how delighted I was to find Overwatch’s Angel of Mercy knocked out of the sky.

“Her aim wasn’t quite perfect, considering I’m still here.”

“Lacroix never misses.” Moira said it as though it was a matter of personal pride, likely because Amelie had become her little pet. The perfect experiment.

So they had wanted her alive. It was calculated. At least she was worth something to them.

“You’re awake earlier than expected.” Moira ignored Angela’s glare and checked her vitals. “You’re also healing much quicker than anticipated.” She turned, watching Angela carefully. “I recall you published a theory -- speculation -- about integrating biotics within specific cell types. You had said that it would increase the speed of regeneration without compromising the integrity of the new tissues.”

Angela blinked. “You read my papers?” It hadn’t dawned on her that an evil Talon scientist would pay attention to her journal publications. Though it was less surprising than finding out that Strike Commander Jack Morrison was an avid reader.

“You experimented on yourself.” Moira ignored the question. “The cell integration works.”

Angela sighed. “Yes. It works. I should never have published that paper. It’s too dangerous for people like you to have access to the technology.”

Moira smiled. “I thought you believed that modern medicine should be available to everyone?”

“I think global terrorists are a special case.”

Moira shrugged, unfazed considering she held all the cards at the moment. “You have a bullet wound in your left shoulder. Several muscular tears that I’m sure are all healed up by now. The fractures were rather impressive, but their progress is even more so. You’ll be as good as new in 48 hours, but I’m sure you knew that, Doctor.”

Angela pulled against the cuffs on her wrists. Even being in the same room as Moira was  _ infuriating _ . There was too much history there, too many old wounds to reopen.

“What do you want? Are you going to make me like Amelie?” It was a fate worse than death. She had only seen Widowmaker once. Cold, empty, completely under Talon’s control.

“It is an interesting thought,” Moira pursed her lips. “But that would surely be a waste of your brilliance. You know how much I’ve always admired your work, Angel.”

The pet name sent a shiver down her spine. It was sickening. How  _ dare _ she.

Gathering her resolve, Angela set her jaw. “I’m hungry,” she said. If they wanted her alive, then they would have to feed her.

“Of course.” Moira turned and left without another word.

Angela slumped in the bed, unable to reach up and wipe the tears from the corners of her eyes. This was miserable.

-

Moira returned with a tray of food not too much later. Angela stared her down until Moira undid the cuffs on her right hand. Eating was slow, but she managed, doing her best to ignore Moira watching her.

She cleaned her tray -- the food wasn’t abysmal. Angela worried what would come next. She was a prisoner of Talon, and though Moira was keeping her alive, she worried that the hospitality wouldn’t last much longer.

“I’ll leave your hand unbound if you behave,” Moira slipped the cuff into her pocket. Angela was thankful for the small freedom. Even if there was no way to get her left hand free, she could at least use her right. 

Grabbing a scanner, Moira came to stand at Angela’s bedside. “I want to check your condition. I’m interested in how quickly your injuries are healing.”

Angela forced herself to be cooperative as Moira checked her over, meticulously cataloguing every abrasion. In all honesty, Angela was very curious herself. She had never sustained injuries this severe since conducting her experiment. It would be interesting to see how her body healed itself.

Moira caught her peering at the scanner whenever she could. “Are you interested, Dr. Zeigler?” she smiled.

“I would be interested in comparing these scans to any you have earlier, as well as any biometric readouts. What tests have you run?” It was hard to have such a civil, academic conversation with the bitch that was holding her captive, but Angela would take whatever chance she could get.

“I’m not in the habit of letting my test subjects view the data I’ve collected on them.” Moira set the scanner down so she could change the dressings on Angela’s shoulder. “But your insight might be of value, considering you have the most experience with your regenerative abilities.”

Angela frowned as Moira peeled away the old bandages. It was strange, to be completely bare under her scrutinizing gaze. Angela flushed with shame at the thought of Moira seeing her in such a state. She hated feeling so powerless. The odds of her managing to escape a Talon base were much too slim for her liking, which left her waiting for some kind of rescue. The thought of her friends risking their lives just for her made her stomach turn.

Moira said nothing, somehow even more professional than she had been when they had worked together under Overwatch all those years ago. It probably helped that Angela was no longer her equal in a workplace but rather a prisoner.

Still, Angela couldn’t help but criticize Moira’s lacking bedside manner and clearly unpracticed medical treatment. She was always much more focused on research and her abominable experiments, and Angela felt sorry for the care Jesse and Genji must have received in Blackwatch.

Moira was unfazed by the harsh assessment. “I would suggest you get some rest,” she said. “You’re still in no condition to strain yourself.”

She left. Once the door closed behind her, the lights in the medical bay dimmed. Angela was indeed tired -- the healing took quite the toll on her -- and there wasn’t much she could do until she was in better condition.

-

It was still dark when Angela woke next. Once again, she was disoriented and hazy. She tried to move only to be stopped by the cuff on her wrist.

“Damn her,” she hissed.

Seeing Moira again had brought up more confusion than Angela wanted to deal with. Not only was she a prisoner of Talon, but she and Moira had too much history. She was at the whims of the one person who had betrayed her the most.

Still, Angela could remember the way Moira’s hands felt against her skin. The low cadence of her voice. The sharp gleam in her eyes. She had never wanted to see Moira again, and that was for good reason. Moira had the capability to weaken her.

She was intoxicating, infuriating. Angela hated that one woman could have such a powerful effect on her.

Against her better judgement -- against her voice of reason -- she let her free hand trail over he breasts. The hospital gown was thin, ineffective. The damn thing barely covered her. She remembered the way Moira’s eyes lingered on her, let herself believe that there was something more in her gaze.

Sliding lower, her fingers trailed over the bruised skin of her hips, dipping in between her thighs. She bit her lip as her fingers came away dripping wet. Her left hand was still firmly cuffed to the railing, and she let out a curse as it kept her from reaching where she liked.

Her hips moved of their own accord as she circled her clit. She hated herself for being so turned on. She was a prisoner, goddammit! Still, a small moan slipped unbidden from her lips, and she curled two fingers inside her dripping pussy. She was aching.

Somehow the shame, the fear, made her blood hotter. She knew Moira could walk in at any moment and find her like this. She knew it was wrong to feel this way. She was bound to a bed in a lab somewhere, getting off to the thought of the woman that had put her there.

The tight coil of pleasure was building. Desperately grinding against her fingers, she moaned Moira’s name, wishing that her long fingers were pressed inside her. She wanted Moira’s low voice in her ear.

She came with a choked off gasp, rocking her hips and shaking. For several moments, she let the rush of orgasm wash over her, almost immediately replaced by shame.

She couldn’t believe she had just done that. There was no one to blame but herself. Furiously wiping her fingers on the hem of the hospital gown, Angela curled in on herself, drifting back to sleep.

-

The lights clicked on, and Angela blinked awake with a groan. She heard the door open and the telltale sound of Moira’s footsteps. Pushing to sit up, she glared at Moira as she entered with a tray of food.

Angela said nothing as she ate, avoiding Moira’s gaze.

The tray was cleared, and Angela patiently let herself be subjected to another medical scan. Moira hummed at each result, and Angela itched to see what was so damn fascinating. She wanted access to Moira’s data for the chance to finally see her experiment put to the test. 

Moira put away the scanner, and Angela hoped that would be the end of it. Maybe she would just leave her be.

“That was quite an entertaining show you put on last night.”

Angela stiffened. Slowly, she turned to see Moira smirking at her. She felt the blood drain from her face.

“The medbay is under careful surveillance at all hours. Audio and video. The feed runs directly to my office.”

She was dead. Angela was dead. She thought she would die at the hands of some deranged experiment, but it was the mortification that would kill her.

Moira leaned in close, sliding one hand up Angela’s thigh and under the short hem of her hospital gown. The touch was electrifying, and it made her heart race.

“If you ever need any help, you can always just ask, Angel.”

Angela couldn’t help herself, she wrapped her fingers in Moira’s perfectly starched collar, hoping to wrinkle the damn thing as much as possible, and dragged her in for a heated kiss.

“Fuck you,” she gasped against her lips. 

Moira had the audacity to smirk. “Is that a request?”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated! Let me know if you see any errors
> 
> I've got loads more fics on [Tumblr](http://www.clareguilty.tumblr.com)
> 
> And I'm also regrettably on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/Clare_guilty)


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